Who: Dante, Zach, and open to others
When: Evening
Where: Beginning at Market Place
What: Dante's a shady mofo, fo'real, and he's mentally unstable.

The dark aura around Dante spread out like grotesque wings, slicing through the tranquil air in the haven and leaving behind a heaviness that hadn't been present before. Dante flew through the night on those dark wings with Zach in tow. One hand clasped tight around the boy's smaller wrists as he dragged him through the dusty trails of the cottages. The lycanthrope didn't know where he was going, or what he was going to do with the boy. No - he did know what he was going to do with Zach. He was going to kill him. Gut him from throat to groin, and let his innards spill to the earth. He'd display the empty shell in front of Adrienne's house as a final show of power. How could he resist her then if she saw how weak the alchemist truly was? Surely, she wouldn't.

He was only semi-shifted with sharp claws on his hands, and sharp teeth in his mouth. His shirt was torn with the protruding muscles of his arms, chest, and back. The vertebrae of his back was pushing upward, curving into the lumbering form of the werewolf. His muzzle had yet to form, but the madness in his eyes was already there. It had always been there. Lying in wait for the perfect moment that didn't exist. There was no perfection in this - only insanity and chaos. All of Dante's planning didn't mean a thing when it seemed violence was the only way to make things happen.

He should've known that the only way to get things in life was to take them.

All logic was gone from the man's mind, and he made his way toward the market place without another thought. Dante didn't think of the people he would encounter, or the fact that someone might recognize him. He was a rabid animal running wherever his feet took him. Instinct had taken over, as did madness. Madness must never be overlooked.

He was in the market place before he knew it, and there were eyes on him. Staring at him. Whispering about him. He heard them all, too. It was too much. He growled as loud as he could, a warning to everyone to stay back.

Who: Jordan - Open
When: Afternoon
Where: The Arts and Trade Enclave
What: Getting in out of the rain

( i can't stand the rain 'gainst my window )

Who: Giles and Brian
When: Late Afternoon
Where: The Library
What: IT'S THE GRINCH! He has to make someone's life hell for Christmas Eve



Though Christmas wasn't going to be as exciting as Halloween, hopefully not as scary either, there was still the irritating, overly cheery couples and children who passed Giles asking him for candy. They even asked him to join in on random singing of Christmas carols. Not so kindly he told them to kiss his ass. Giles told one kid that Santa wasn't real. He was an idiot if he hadn't figured that one out. They were in a wonderland sparing them from an Apocalypse. What were the odds that Saint Nick decided to follow along? Sure the kid cried, but he'd grow up to be a better man that favored realism. The family would thank Giles later.

The empath harassed someone at the market a few days ago, so he decided to go for the library. Sascha wouldn't be annoyed and he hadn't seen the nerdy German boy in a while. Teenagers were bitchy. He would have been fun, but he was sure there were other gems that worked there.

Near busting the door open, Giles searched around the library to see it was pretty damn empty. He grabbed a book when he finally notice someone on steeping stool sorting books. Instead of waiting for the man to be finished, Giles threw the book at his ass. "Pardon me, but where are the books on sexual diseases? I have a rash on my private area and I'm concerned. I prefer ones with pictures."

Who: Rosalinda & Brian
When: Late Afternoon
Where: Abandoned palace in the Northeast.
What: Rosalinda explores the dead places of the land.

Travel across the land meant facing the cold, and despite the wool shawl draped over her shoulders to keep her warm against the winter weather, Rosalinda felt the bitter wind against her face. The wool cap upon her head helped to keep her warm, as did the gloves on her hands and the scarf around her neck. She was swathed in the color red, standing out against the evergreen trees and brush and the tufts of white snow.

At the end of her journey, she dismounted her horse and found a comfortable place for him to rest. The palace’s gate opened to a courtyard covered in snow. It surprised her how no one else lived here anymore and few people visited it. The castle was alone by itself in the wilderness with no company but the silence and the birds. She crossed the courtyard, though, all the while taking in the scenery around her. The palace seemed like an enormous mansion, its stone wall glittering in the wintry setting. She wondered how stone could glitter like that. She’d never seen a human structure look as ethereal as this one.

It wasn’t of human make, though. Elves built this place. Rosalinda reached the large entrance, placing a hand delicately against the wood. A part of her was almost fearful of opening it, as if she was doing something she should not have been doing. She might have felt more welcome here if it wasn’t so silent, but the silence held an unnerving quality to it, and Rosalinda wondered why she had come here. The people in town told her it was beautiful, and she wanted to see it. It was easy to think now anything that reminded her of her life before this was gone, smashed into mere dust.

Rosalinda pushed open one of the double doors, carefully wandering into the building. The quiet continued, and she was met with a darkened entrance hall. It seemed to glimmer as well, even though there was little light to support it. She stepped inside slowly, the door parting open for her without making a single sound. Any other door would have creaked, but this one did not.

Her eyes travelled upward, casting themselves over the entrance hall. It was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen in Italy, and it took her breath away.